These Men So Unafraid To Die
by The Dunadan Project
Summary: The Wainrider attacks on Gondor form the background for this story. A look at the lives of those on both sides and tracing their stories as the war brings them together
1. Prologue

**These Men So Unafraid To Die***

**By Nerwen Calaelen**

**Prologue**

**Disclaimer: I don't own LotR.  I (possibly) own the characters that I invented and the plot of the story, nothing else, so don't sue me! **

**A/N: This chapter is only a prologue, it is intended to tell the story so far, before focusing in on the events covered in the story.  It is probably a bit pointless, but hopefully the rest will be better.**

This has not been betaed and is probably full of mistakes – grammar etc and canon, any corrections would be very much appreciated. 

Hopefully I'll be updating soon, but don't count on it.

*The title is from the English translation of 'Cyrano de Bergerac' by Edmond Rostand, but I can't remember the translator's name, I've got a copy of that version at home and so when I've been back will try and remember to add the translator's name.

**Rating: PG. (I don't know – this seemed as good a guess as any)**

***

_What a tale of warriors and wars_

_Destined to decide the fate of the world_

_Four great heroes, one bright tale_

_An invincible alliance to bring Gondor down_

_What god made it fail?  _

_Not a god but mortal pride._

The start of a Khandian epic poem on the subject of the Wainriders.

***

These events took place in the year 1783 of the Third Age, in the East of the lands known as Rhun.

It was a small village, a dozen families, but had been in better times a wealthy one.  The land had been green and fertile, but the droughts had parched it.  

In one of the huts a woman sat beside the bed of as another of her patients died.  

_How many is that now?  Five in the last week.  I can do nothing; it is hunger that is killing them.  These small illnesses I could cure, if only there was food to give them, but there is none.  How long since I was not hungry?  I can no longer remember what it feels like to eat enough.  This land is dieing, there is no food for us to eat.  It is our home, but the time has come to move on again.  Our ancestors moved here in the past, but now this land must become our past as their homelands are.  _

***

By midday the pyre had burnt out.  After the ashes were raked out, the talk solidified into a council.  For a time it seemed as if it was to be the same as all the other councils over the last few months.  Loud arguments over whether or not it was time to move on, but after a bit the healer started to speak,

"All of the ill have died.  Now is the time to leave.  I know, the goddess had spoken to me in my dreams, she wishes us to move on.  In the past we were a warrior people.  It is time we became warriors again.  Too long have we dwelt in peace."

After she had spoken there was silence, it was unusual for her to speak.  Everyone accepted this without words and so the decision was made.   

The priest cast a hunting spear into the air, "It falls facing south west, that is where our new home will be.  We will leave at dawn tomorrow."  

 The families scattered, returning to their homes to gather up their possessions.  Most of the families had carts, pulled by oxen, and into these were loaded all their possessions.  They harnessed up the war chariots, which had remained hoarded in the families for generations.

Families wept to leave behind their homes, but everyone was ready to leave at first light the next morning.  

***

At every village they passed through, word spread of the omens driving them onwards.  Many joined them, whole villages, families or single warriors.  The small party became a clan, the clan a tribe. 

Thus by the time they had reached the edge of the drought, it was a whole nation on the move, many carts and war chariots, surrounded by herds of animals.  They came to the banks of the great river.  Milling about, the leaders eventually found a ford and they crossed into green lands.  There was food aplenty and trees to build more carts from.  

Here they halted and rested, waiting for a sign from the goddess.  Were these the lands that they were destined to settle?

But the omens were for war and the leaders wished to move on to fight.  Most of the leaders were young and burning to return to the days of yore when the tribes had been warriors, dreaded by those whose lands bordered on theirs.

And so they moved on south east, entering the territories of other tribes.  Some of the tribes were friendly, some not.  More tribes and warriors joined the quest.  But in these lands the warriors had their first bloodings, the moving tribes were never beaten but lost some warriors to death.  As the small battles occurred, the natural leaders of the group came to the fore and those who challenged them and failed died.  The greatest of these leaders was Garmillez, whose name was to echo through the history being respected or feared for generations to come. 

 Garmillez was born after the march had begun, but he came to the fore in the Battle of the Plain as he killed King Narmacil of Gondor.  Thus allowing peace for a time and a new home for his people, until the armies of Gondor marched north to gain revenge.  

The new king, Calimehtar was determined to get revenge for the death of his father and so sort out Garmillez in the midst of the battle.  He lead the decisive charge into the centre of the Wainriders ranks, and succeeded in killing Garmillez.  And so the army crumbled and was crushed between the Northmen and Gondor.  The Northmen slaves had revolted and burnt their homes, killing those who had remained behind.  And so many fled east, vowing revenge.

***


	2. Chapter One: Earnil

**These Men So Unafraid To Die***

**By Nerwen Calaelen**

**Chapter 1: Earnil**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing that is recognisable from the works of Tolkien.  I (possibly) own the characters I invented and other odds and ends, but nothing else!**

**A/N: Hopefully I'll be updating soon, but don't count on it as my life is quite busy at the moment.  Sorry, instead of an update this is a redrafted version of this chapter.  I've changed things round a bit and corrected some errors that I spotted.**

This chapter is from the viewpoint of Earnil.  In general, each chapter will be from the viewpoint of the character named in the title.

*The title is from the English translation of 'Cyrano de Bergerac' by Edmond Rostand, but I can't remember the translator's name, I've got a copy of that version at home and so when I've been back will try and remember to add the translator's name.

**Rating: PG. (I don't know – this seemed as good a guess as any)**

***

{1944 Third Age}

"Your Majesty, there is news from the North.  The Wainriders have attacked the garrisons."

 Ondoher looked up from his study of the documents in from of him.

"What are you speaking of?  That is impossible.  Do you not remember the battle on the Plains of Dagorlad?"  He spoke with a sneer.  I remember the battle on the planes of Dagorlad 

"A great victory indeed."  

I fought there at the age of 16, and watched King Calimehtar lead the decisive charge deep into the ranks of the foe.  He was a great leader until Glóredhel died later that year.  If she had not died …but she died, and it was as if he died too.  He lived on, but he stopped being interested in anything, except her, he built the White Tower as a memorial.  He would go and sit up there for days on end, leaving Ondoher to run the kingdom.  This was not a task to which he was suited.  Thank the Valar for Artamir and Pelendur; those two were truly talented in organisation and the running of the kingdom.  This left him to recruit his army and train it for war.  He always wanted to fight and I think that his dislike of me was based on jealousy as he was forced to remain at home during the battle on Dagorlad.  

 "However, the Wainriders have obviously regrouped.  Will you order me to march north to crush this threat?"

"Certainly not.  You must return to your post at Pelagir-on-Anduin, to guard against attack from Harad.**  I will march north to crush these barbarians.  They were not able to withstand the might of Gondor before and undoubtedly can not now.  It will be a quick war and an easy victory."**

"Your majesty.  The Wainriders are a great threat to our land, true they were defeated at Dagorlad.  However, they fought bravely and it was only after your great father King Calimehtar fought and defeated their leader in single combat that their troops faltered.  Even then if Marhwini's cavalry had not fallen on their undefended rear, the battle could have gone either way."

"Silence.  I will not hear this defeatist talk.  They are merely a rabble of barbarians, however brave, their strength is their numbers.  I have resolved to march north and end this threat finally by destroying their army and chasing the remnants back into Rhun, teaching them a lesson they will never forget.  Furthermore, I intend to take Faramir with me and leave Artamir behind to rule in my place."

"Artamir will rule well.  He will make a good king someday, should his fate allow him."

I see anger in his eyes, he knows that I see how little he cares for the administration of the kingdom.  I should not anger him, but I know he is underestimating the threat and I fear that it will prove to be a disaster for our country.  I must try to prevent him from making this mistake, but I do not know how to.

"Yet he will need experience in leading armies, so I will take him as my second in command and leave Faramir to learn to administer the kingdom.  Pelendur will be here to ensure that he does not make any important mistakes."

If Faramir will listen to Pelendur.  It maybe that the responsibility will calm him and encourage him to behave like an adult, but I fear it will not be so.

I am fortunate to have escaped his presence before I lost my temper.  I should remain calm, but I know that he would not listen to me – I need a way of advising him, so that he will do as I wish but I am not cunning enough for that.  Indeed even Pelendur's diplomacy often seems to have the wrong effect on Ondoher, he will listen to no one.  I only hope there is some way we can prevent him ruining Gondor.  

*******

**A/N:  Please review!  Any comments, especially constructive ones are welcome.**


	3. Chapter 2: Kirgonz

**These Men So Unafraid To Die***

**By Nerwen Calaelen**

**Chapter 2: Kirgonz**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing that is recognisable from the works of Tolkien.  I (possibly) own the characters I invented and other odds and ends, but nothing else!**

**A/N: An update!  Sorry it is so short, but hopefully the chapters will get longer as I go.  I reposted chapter 1 with a few changes, and a little bit more at the end.**

*The title is from the English translation of 'Cyrano de Bergerac' by Edmond Rostand, but I can't remember the translator's name, I've got a copy of that version at home and so when I've been back will try and remember to add the translator's name.

**Rating: PG. (I don't know – this seemed as good a guess as any)**

**Replies to reviewers: Otakuprincess: I look forward to seeing what you think of this.  Thank you for leaving a little note – I meant that I knew that you had read this, even though I've no idea what you thought of it.**

**Soledad****: Glad you liked it.  Thank you very much for the review.  My only concern is that all the thoughts in the first chapter were supposed to be Earnil's, not Ondoher's.  His sons will appear in the next chapter, and probably Earnur and Pelendur as well.**

***

Khand – Late Summer, 1940 Third Age

Their attacks are growing stronger, wave after wave of men breaks against our walls, but now I sense a change in the mood of the battle, one of their leaders is coming forward.  He has drawn the men back from the battle and stands in front of them looking up at our walls.

"I would speak to however is in authority here."  His words ring out, strongly accented but easily understandable.  I stand up and lean out,

"That would be me."  I hesitate, hating myself for my indecision, but then continue, "Kirgonz, son and heir to the glorious Emperor.  Who wishes to parley?"

"Arrargaz, grandson of Garmillez."

This man standing before me is the grandson of the greatest of their heroes.  The tale of Garmillez is a legend to these people, he died only forty-one years ago, yet seems a hero from another age.  I know not to underestimate the man who stands in front of me, if he had inherited half of his grandfather's worth, he must be a great man.  I signal to the men to stand down and open the gate,

"Let us meet and talk, then.  Come in and share a meal."

He is uncertain, does he not trust me?  He must know enough of our customs to know that he is safe under the truce and that sharing the food brings him within my protection, whilst he is my guest.

"Very well."

***

We eat in silence, waiting for all the attendants to depart.

"On what subject do you wish to speak?"  I will not start this, although I have some idea where this conversation may lead.

"I wish to propose the idea of an alliance between my people and yours.  It has come to my attention that we have not revenged ourselves on Gondor for the defeat at Dagolad."

It is as I expected, but he is so blunt about it.

"I see the advantages for your people, but for mine, what would be the advantages of an alliance as opposed to a truce?"

"A worthy enemy to fight, Gondor is powerful and rich.  A war would bring many spoils as well as much glory."  He stops, seeing in my eyes that he has won.  How could I refuse the opportunity, I dream of being a hero, but to be a hero you must fight heroes.

"The decision is not mine to take.  I will return to the capital tomorrow to speak with my father on this, if I have your word that this frontier will remain peaceful."

"My word, willingly.  May you have success.  I will await your return.  Then we can make plans for the war, I look forward to fighting beside you."

"The honour will be mine, if it comes to pass."

****


End file.
